Betrothed To A Kabra
by PrettyInternetBarf
Summary: What could Amy do? She couldn't have daddy's boy, a.k.a. Ian Kabra, looking over her shoulder and reporting every clue she'd find to his branch. Nellie looked at her, her eyes wide. "Goddamnit, Amy, the movie I'm watching! How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days!" [disregards Book 10 and over] slightly AU.
1. Prologue!

PROLOGUE!:

Betrothed To A Kabra!

Arthur clenched his fists in anger and suppressed pointing his middle finger at the Kabra couple in front of him. He didn't mind reciting The Periodic Table of Swearing to them or swearing at them every other day in a different language, in front of every camera that watched them, in a monotone ghost voice. That he didn't mind. He practiced that in the mirror at home so he could make sure he had the perfect stink eye ready for every Clue mission.

Now, what Arthur Trent-Cahill **did **mind was being tortured by megalomaniac couples who were **way **obsessed with designer clothing, didn't know what 4 squared was, and had more money than Richie Rich - _And got away with it! _And worst of all, they had kids! Offspring! Little demons that would run all over the world as if it were their little playground with homicidal tendencies like their own parents. They would probably even grow up with some skin disorder that won't let them _come in contact_ with anything poor! It was a _Mad Mad World _indeed.

Arthur reached his hand over and took his wife's hand. It was dry from staying in the torture chamber/dungeon/whatever the Kabras thought sounded scary. He sighed and rubbed her hand lazily. She was unresponsive. He sighed again, but didn't poke her like he usually did until she shouted at him. She was _still _pretty mad at him for agreeing to the stupid Kabra's stupid contract, but honestly, it was for the best.

It had all started with a _nice _surprise visit by Isabel and Vikram Kabra, who gave them the whole villian's "If you don't come with us, we'll kill you" ultimatum. He was pretty sure they were genetically made to be unoriginal. It seemed like everything they tried to make sound painful and torturous had come from a Disney villain's mouth, but modernized. So, yawn.

And they were swarmed by 50 Lucian agents surrounding the house . . .

At least they got something right.

Anyways, they were captured, blindfolded and tossed into air-conditioned Hummers that smelled like floral perfume and blood. After hours of different means of transportation, they finally reached what they supposed was a Lucian stronghold. They had been pushed into a room with the dreaded and awfully cliche Kabra couple. Yes, it was torture already.

That's where it all really began.

The Kabras had proposed one of the stupidest and most disgusting things ever to them. They wanted Amy and their son, Ian, who Arthur reasoned, was a Armani-hyped up homicidal brat, to be betrothed and marry at the age of 21 years. They outright said no, and went through real torture, but didn't budge. Until, that is, Arthur said yes (Actually, it was more explicit and talked about _certain_ people's nannies in a rather nasty manner . . .). But he had his reasons. The Kabras were serious this time. They were ready to force him and Hope to sign it by the time they were on their deathbed, too hallucinated and unaware of reality. There was no getting out without getting killed, and that would just give the Kabras headway on their plan to brainwash Amy and Dan into the hunting the clues for the Lucians and becoming happy little dark and twisted spies who hang out in Russia behind libraries tailing a person you think has a camera in their purse. . .

Yeah. That definitelywas going to happen if the Kabras are left with kids. They would so fail Family Studies.

And why leave Amy and Dan as orphans, prey to their crazy family, without at least teaching them to be good people, and that dropping cyanide into someone's drink is _not _good? It was utter bogus. But there was either let them be brought up by the Kabras, or get a couple of years to raise their kids properly and love them.

You'd have to be Kabra stupid to get that wrong.

So they both signed the damn contract.

They acted like everything was normal when they got back home; tired, battered, and bruised.

They hugged Amy and Dan and kissed them goodnight every night.

They made pancakes with zucchini curls.

They dressed up like princesses when they went to the grocery store. And no, Dan was manly at the age of 3 and was a ninja that whupped butts.

So when Isabel came to their house, late one night after their hunt in Australia, all they could think was:

It was too damn early.

But all Arthur could think was:

My little girl and boy will call upon their inner strength and kick that boy's Armani ass! 

Uh huh.


	2. British Airlines Will Commit Seppuku

British Airlines Will Commit Seppuku.

Amy scooped up big spoonfuls of her Frosted Flakes cereal and shoved it into her mouth. She had woken up late. _Who _wakes up late for something as important as a Madrigal Mission? Guess! Maybe the girl who has milk dripping down her chin and a twitch in her right eye from trying to wake up her ninja brother! Yup! Amy-chan, the one and only bookworm who had nearly tripped out of the shower, took one look at her in the mirror, mussed her hair a bit, and ran with her suitcases and her ninja brother and au pair in tow to the Airport. 

_**Smoooth . . . **_

The three rushed through customs and Airport security, gave the ticket collector their tickets and had their passports checked before they finally ran (nearly running over a flight attendant . . .) into the airplane with their carry on and crashed into their hard business class seats. 

**-!- HEY ED! GOT MILK? hehe(FMA BROTHERHOOD!) -!-**

"No!" Dan stage-whispered, waving his arms as if in agony. He probably was. Close by passengers turned their heads, but just looked away when all they saw was a hysterical American douche in a ninja costume. An arm moving faster than Dan on Taco day landed a sharp _slap! _on his arm. The sharp sting on his arm broke him out of his mourning quickly and effectively. But it just brought whining episodes with Japanese sound effects and curses. Sigh.

"Amy-chan, why'd you do that? Do you not understand the agony that is welling up inside my soul?"Dan wailed again, sounding even more annoying to Amy. All she wanted to do was sleep so that she could escape Dan's constant anime action sound imitations at 3 in the morning and his insistence to the flight attendant that they **needed **Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia to provide the ultimate customer satisfaction.

"Lose the honorific, would you? You sound like such a dweeb."Amy said, rolling her eyes.

All Amy could do was wince. What_** kind**_ of 17 year old acts like a kid when they're really on a secret mission that . . . oh. Never mind. Hormone outbalance. The pheromones (if there were any, really) releasing from his body got screwed up when first passing through his brain and instead increased his dweebness times a million or something. Yeah. That explained it.

Amy ripped open the airline pillow out of its plastic wrapping and covered her face with it to block out Dan's incessant chatter. Bored, she leaned in closer to Nellie to hear what music she was listening to. Loud piano notes blasted out before it all went quiet . . . and then Amy recognized the song. Nellie always played it at home when she was moody. It was some song from Coldplay. It definitely felt as moody as Nellie would get when Kurt mentioned something about hating chocolate croissants . . .

Then, suddenly, the pillow was forced onto her face and Amy instantly panicked. Seconds passed and her muffled shouts were useless. She could feel the oxygen slowly running out. She tried moving her hands, but they were forced down. She continued to struggle. _Who the heck is doing this? Can't anyone see what's happening?_

And then moist air filled her ear.

A voice spoke.

"Amy-chan, I need my anime."

Exactly 5 seconds passed before Amelia Cahill turned her head slowly and gave an incredibly venomous stink eye. If looks could kill, Dan would be six feet under and Amy would be dancing on his grave like a hippie.

"Dan," she said, "I am going to kill you."

And by god, Dan knew it too.

The Cahill's didn't know how much their lives would change by their new mission in England.

They just knew that Brit food sucked. 

**-!- GOLLUM'S MY PET! (LordOfTheRings)-!-**

He kissed her softly and she moved away, shocked. Her eyes widened and she stepped back, not sure how to react. His eyes became sad, seeing her reaction, when her cell phone rang. Desperate for a distraction and exit strategy, she quickly grabbed it like it was her lifeline.

The cell phone read:

NEW TEXT MESSAGE!

1 UNREAD MESSAGE.

|CLICK TO READ|

Amy clicked and her eyes narrowed, confused. She tapped and the text message opened up.

_

Amy Cahill,

I request your presence for the reading of a document that involves your person. The meeting will be tomorrow at 9:00 am in 306 Bellevue Place.

Sincerely,

Richard Parkinson.

_

Her eyes flickered to him before she quickly grabbed her jacket on the couch and said, "I have to go. Something's come up."

"What is it?" He still sounded sad. Kind of like a lost puppy.

"It's alright, Kurt. It doesn't concern you."

She was already out the door by the time he tried to speak again, confusing it was, because it was useless. She had only come to ask him for an update on the mission the other Madrigals had done, but . . . he just came on her so suddenly.

She didn't need this. She didn't _want _this.

She didn't look back as she left.

All she could think was . . .

_Who the heck is Richard Parkinson?_

**-!- ED ELRIC IS MY GUIDANCE COUNSELOR!(FMA BROTHERHOOD!) -!-**

Somewhere in London, a young man received a text message. He pulled out his phone smoothly and, after reading his message, a frown graced his lips. His amber eyes flashed with curiosity before he returned to typing furiously on his laptop.

He was quite unaware of how important his meeting would be.

He was quite unaware how his life would _change_.

Tomorrow. 


	3. A Grave Truth And A Vow

Chapter 2 

Amy fiddled with her clothes nervously. She had only told Mr. McIntyre about the meeting with a certain Richard Parkinson, and, to say the least, she was worried. There was a sort of apprehension and anxiety that she felt about the meeting, mostly because she had never heard of the man before in her life, and a few Cahill database files and Google searches didn't calm her nerves to believe that he was just an executioner. And the gnawing feeling she got made her feel that **something **was going to happen, and not in a pleasant way. She had thought it was only nerves from getting a request from someone she barely knew, but her flimsy thoughts had been given some meaning when she noticed the glint in Mr. McIntyre's eye when she said the executioner's name. Like he knew something she didn't. Like he knew who this elusive Richard Parkinson was, but kept his mouth shut about it. As if he just **couldn't **say.

Turning her head to look through the window, the fantastic array of colours and people in the lively city mixed in the blazing morning light kept her distracted for the rest of the drive. Though she felt the knots tighten in her stomach, she continued to look outside, as if hoping something could make her at peace so that she didn't start to stutter again. She needed to be professional in front of this supposed executioner. She needed to know what was happening. She needed to be in control of the situation. She needed coffee.

It was going to be a _very _long day... 

Ian Kabra entered Richard Parkinson's office and gave a slight nod to the secretary to let her know to tell the executioner he was there. He quickly surveyed the tasteful waiting room before sitting down and taking his cell phone out. He had no worries for being watched electronically as the Lucian scientists had excelled over newest . . . toys of stealth and discretion, that being their very nature. And the room was meant for privacy and secrecy; the Kabra family had **made** sure of that. He paid little interest to the recent IM's Natalie sent to him from the Paris stronghold, or rather Natalie's likeness, Champs Elyesees. His focus was more on why Parkinson had requested a meeting.

Parkinson himself was a rather elusive, secretive man with a face one could forget when you were looking at him. He was a fantastic executioner though, Ian reflected. Lucians were known for their stealth, but when needed, Parkinson could cover up anything. No matter how . . . messy it got. But when he informed his father of the meeting, all he gave was a knowing smirk. No information. Nothing. Ever since his mother had gone on a long hunt for a clue in Asia, his father seemed a bit . . . different. Nothing collateral, no, but it was worrisome. Because Ian didn't know if it was good or bad.

A sharp voice from the beady eyed secretary put an abrupt stop to his thoughts and told him that Mr. Parkinson was ready for him to come in. With a slight hesitation, for he was not quite sure why, he opened the door, expecting to only see the Mr. Richard Parkinson waiting in his classy office. To his surprise, he saw in another chair opposite of Parkinson, Amy Cahill! But she seemed to already know he was there, for she was scowling nastily, like he were some gum on her shoe. Disgusting and a tiresome thing to get rid of. How annoying. His eyes flickered mischievously before he finally said, "Hello love."

No doubt there was something amiss, Ian thought, as he sat down in a chair beside Amy. He noticed movement beside him and saw that she had stiffened and looked like bashing some one's head right about now. Preferably his. He pretended that he hadn't noticed and waited for the executioner to begin speaking. Whatever involved two rival Cahills to meet never ended well...

"Yes, well thank you Ms. Cahill for coming on such short notice. Did it take some time to get here? I do apologize, London traffic is difficult to beat even at its best..." Ah, did he say the man was clever as well? Always looking out to pick information and making it look like he was talking about the weather.

"It was alright," was all the answer he fiddled from Amy. Ian frowned, disappointed, but quickly hid it and turned to Parkinson.

"What was it, exactly, that you wanted to discuss Mr. Parkinson? My father, nor you, relayed any information about this meeting." Ian asked.

"Precautionary. Either way, you are here to discuss a certain document that is coming into effect . . . I believe both your parents had created twenty years ago concerning you two." At their puzzled looks, the executioner continued.

"This document is a betrothal."

The silence that hung in the room was painful and tension was at a limitless high as Amy, for a few seconds, finally processed the information before sputtering out an indignant "No!" Amy stood up, her ears pounding and her body going numb. All comforting thoughts Mr. Parkinson said fell on deaf ears.

"Sit down, Cahill."The resentment and cold cutting cool of his voice broke through her reverie and she felt her hands shake as she forced herself to sit back down again.

"Why **him**?" She asked quietly. Before Mr. Parkinson could answer, Ian cut in.

"Why **me**? I should be the one asking why **you**! Do you think I want this arrangement to happen . . **. Do you think I want to marry you**?" His angry voice and venomous words hurt, for a reason she quite didn't understand. Yes, she was insulted, but she had felt like tearing his head off a few seconds ago because of the whole thing. What had happened to her? She was supposed to be professional; calm and collected. She gave Ian a pointed look, as if to say how she had any choice in it either way, so drop it.

She turned to Mr. Parkinson. She needed to know. Why? Why was she betrothed to a childhood enemy before she was born . . . by her own parents? She felt a swift tang of betrayal before she pushed it aside. If the Kabras were involved, anything could have happened. Anything to make her parents agree. As she asked Mr. Parkinson, all she could picture was Kurt's hurt, disappointed face and Dan throwing her possible wedding cake on Natalie's head. She looked at the man beside her. He was older, as was expected, and his features were to be as expected as usual, handsome. But he looked cold and frosty, perhaps a bit bitter as well. Well, she thought. It's not like you **want **to get married to him. So while the branch analysts go through that document, you`re going to give him **hell. **She inwardly smirked at the thought as she waited for Mr. Parkinson to start.

She just hoped her parents would be proud by the time she was done with the snobby British brat.


	4. A Cold Aftermath and Inner Wars

Author's Note

Hey guys, I'll try and keep ANs as short and as rare as possible but I've been hoping if you guys could send in some ideas about what you would like Amy to do to Ian (In an evil sense, of course). I'm not out of ideas, but I want to update regularly and I get writer's blocks sometimes . . . And to anonymous reviewer, of course Amy's going to fall for Ian, but she's not going down without a fight. Definitely denial. Enjoy!

Remember: Come to the dark side. We have Ninja Gaiden.

Review!

Chapter 3

A cold gnawing feeling crawled up on Amy as she left Parkinson's firm. The cold cool London rain chilled her to the bone and she tugged her coat on a little tighter. It didn't help. She groaned in her head. Today was not a good day. Not a good day at all. Mr. Parkinson proved to be of no help. He reviewed all of the arrangements, procedures and rules with them, but there were no loopholes that came to her after some time of thinking. It had Cahill written all over it.

She let out a sigh of pure frustration. According to the bindings of the contract, she and the . . . **ugh, **_**Kabra**_, would have to marry by the time one of them turns 21 years old. She could think of a number of foul words and insults to say to the Cobra, but they were both cursing their existences when Mr. Parkinson informed them that Ian's birthday was in approximately seven months. Seven of the worst months of her life, followed by the worst years "till death do us apart". Aunt Beatrice even looked better than this: Mary Poppins with a tray of cookies - however poisoned - in one hand and, instead of an umbrella, a beautifully hand crafted machete lined with mongoose venom, perfect for slicing Cobras in half.

The Madrigal analysts will have no luck, she thought. The Kabras are always . . . thorough in their work. But what could make my parents possibly agree to this? They must have been tortured for weeks . . . even months! Amy felt disgust crawl up her throat as she pictured all too painfully her parents being tortured in the most brutal way. She could feel the bile rise up in her mouth before she reluctantly swallowed it. She let the disgusting acid sit on her tongue as she tried to calm herself down.

She was betrothed to a monster. A cold, cruel, evil, **snobby **British monster. She was going to be a Cobra. _A Cobra!_ Her sister-in-law would be, shudder, _Natalie_, her father-in-law would be _Vikram Kabra_, the Lucian Branch Leader and a ruthless man at the very least. What else could make him earn such a high rank? And worst of all, her mother-in-law would be the terrifying and manipulative Isabel Kabra. The women had tried to kill her more than a few times. And that was _before _she would marry her son, the only heir to the family . . . business. It was like an extremist sanguine version of Monster-In-Laws. The whole family were homicidal megalomaniacs who had tried to kill her, Dan and Nellie every time they had encountered.

And what could this do to the clue hunt? Nine long years of training, dangerous near death experiences and bad airplane food all because of that one choice. The choice to burn up two million dollars for something exciting. Something new. That's what we thought, she reminisced bitterly. Then the body count started rising. Amy and Dan always wanted to make their parents and Grace proud, but tricking and deceiving felt dirty at the end of the day. Was that what it meant to be a Cahill? It was a game where she and Dan were the pawns and there was a puppeteer above. Unnoticed yet forever in control. It sickened her to the bone. But she knew that Dan and she got that adrenalin rush from it. That feeling of pure action and liveliness were unfound. It was bittersweet. The clue hunt had become their McDonald's. So tasty, it can kill you.

Back to the matter at hand, she thought, this sucks. She didn't even_ day dream_ about getting married. She had always been such a radical feminist that she had vowed to herself at the age of seven that she would **never** get married. Well, she thought scathingly, thanks a lot _Isabel_; you just crushed my dreams of being a spinster to dust with your million dollar Prada high heels and arsonist skills. You suck too. It just started to rain harder, if that's possible. Rain sucks too.

Amy was in a nasty mood. But until she got Mr. McIntyre to spill about any and all information he had on the betrothal and her strangling Ian (properly), taking into technique the excellent born skill of it by Homer Simpson, she would calm down. Just a little.

As she walked down to the rendezvous point set up by Mr. McIntyre, she couldn't help feel that animalistic sixth sense of _being watched._

**~BETROTHED TO A KABRA~**

**I am going to kill father. **

Normally, children don't fantasize about killing their fathers in the most brutal yet incredibly morbidly interesting ways possible, but then again, these are no ordinary children. And these are no ordinary fathers. _These are inbred bloodthirsty cutthroat lucians. _And the perks of being a Lucian at the very least promises you a wide range of collections and knowledge of poisons and torture methods. Helpful, no? 

Of course, in this case, this very entertaining torture that would have been delightfully interesting and gruesome could not take place. "Why not?" you cry. Because, silly little ones, Vikram Kabra, the future victim of these torturous methods, is Ian Kabra's father. Oh, the label "father" doesn't mean anything other than the man was-oh, sorry, _is _the one who has billions of dollars of cash and valuables that Ian Kabra requires to continue his high end lifestyle. Sounds pathetic, no? Well, not until you have your first bite of caviar it doesn't. Don't you feel bad for Amy already? I know I do.

Ian relished in the homicidal fantasies that played out in his mind that included his father screaming out in agonizing pain. The fact that his father had said nothing - absolutely** nothing! **- drove him insane. He was betrothed to Amy Cahill - _Amy Cahill! _And all the man could do was give him a knowing smirk? Although strategically the betrothal was excellent for the Lucians and the clue hunt, all he could do was see red.

He took deep breaths. Inhaling and exhaling, he slumped into the softness of his limo's seat and allowed himself one moment of pure exhaustion to take over before he put his facade back. He sat up straighter and clasped his hands. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and more thoughts. He couldn't bloody well think. It was annoying to say the least. He had never felt such an array of emotions before in his life. Maybe once or twice during the Clue Hunt when it started a few years ago . . . But now . . . He needed answers to his questions. And he needed them fast. If his parent's had arranged the whole betrothal, he knew he had to marry the Cahill. There was no way around it. A surge of disgust welled up inside of him and he wondered: since when did he hate Amy Cahill so much? But he let it go. All the better you hate her.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, frustrated. Why did it have to be _her_? Why did it have to be someone he had so much bad history with? And for the rest of their lives? They wouldn't last a day without being at each other's throats . . . Imagine forever. . . Ian shuddered. They had been in the room for _five minutes_ and she had managed to piss him off. And there was no way she was going to tell him any clues. No way in hell.

As the limo drove up to Kabra Manor, he spotted two figures at the gateway wrestling quite dirtily. His curiosity peaked and he tried to look closer out the window, but cursed the limo's small windows, for he couldn't look through them properly. As the limo finally drove up to the front, he quickly opened the door and stood out, putting his hand against his forehead to shield his eyes against the bright clouds and froze in horror and shock.

Amy Cahill was on the ground, sporting a bruise on her arm and looked like she was about to murder his best bodyguard and cousin. Fan-bloody-tastic.


	5. Kabra Genes Suck

I had a lot of work and projects over the week, so I couldn't post. So tired . . . And hungry . . .And the only thing that can save me from boredom and dehydration is reading all those reviews by people who actually like my story. Uh huh. So review people. For my sake.

Oh yeah.

I like oranges.

Mhmmm . . . Juicy oranges . . .

And Death Note is kick . . . butt. . .?

You know what I mean.

I hope.

Here you go:

THE CHAPTER BEFORE!

As the limo drove up to Kabra Manor, he spotted two figures at the gateway wrestling quite dirtily. His curiousity peaked and he tried to look closer out the window, but cursed the limo's small windows, for he couldn't look through them properly. As the limo finally drove up to the front, he quickly opened the door and stood out, putting his hand against his forehead to shield his eyes against the bright clouds and froze in horror and shock.

Amy Cahill was on the ground, sporting a bruise on her arm and looked like she was about to murder his best bodyguard and cousin. Fan-bloody-tastic.

CHAPTER 4!

Great job Amy, you just got kidnapped by your betrothee's body guard, she thought. How romantic. Amy was sitting on the edge of, what she predicted to be, an expensive sofa . It felt horribly pointy and hard to her, as if she was sitting on a bed of sharp metal nails. She had an ice pack on her bruise and she was scowling quite menacingly at a certain Ian Kabra. "You! You . . .! Uh!" And she imagined his neck being strangled by her hands (she was imitating it in front of the two men). The two men shared a look of faint amusement and looked back at Amy. Amy watched much too many reruns of the Simpsons nowadays with Dan.

Ian and his bodyguard had forced her to sit in the "drawing room," which looked increasingly like a museum of 19th century furniture that were meant to poke you in your bum. She was again reminded of when she and Dan had just started the Clue Hunt, when they had broken into Jonah Wizard's suite. They could - would - never fit into the world of the rich and connected. She smiled faintly, Dan would probably break half of them in five minutes because he needed to 'unleash his inner ninja.'

She stood up, quite angry and asked in a steady, yet angry tone. "Why did you order your," she jabbed her index finger at the bodyguard,"buddy over there to kidnap me, huh? I find out that I'm betrothed to you just hours ago and you can't give me a few hours before I mourn my life?" Amy walked towards Ian until she stood right in front of him."What (poke) is (poke) your (poke) problem (poke)?"

"Are you done yet?" He smirked down her as she just realized, he was a head taller than her. She crossed her arms indignantly and narrowed her eyes. Fine Cobra, your genes win this time . . . " And I did not order Mark to bring you here. I know it's hard to resist, but-"

"Dream on, Cobra." Amy shouted, jabbing her finger at him and effectively cutting him off from what sounded to be a sentence she would have made him regret very soon. He smirked again and placed his hands on her shoulders. Amy narrowed her eyes again and tried to move his hands, but his grip was too strong.

"Now look here Cahill, the feelings mutual. I don't want you here anymore than I want to see your face, but looks like none of us are getting our way." Ian smirked as Amy got angrier by the moment, her red hair flaming up as if it were on fire. He felt this spurt of pleasure at seeing her like that, angry and enraged. And murderous. Murderous just looked nice on her. But there was a bigger problem than thinking that Amy Cahill looked good while she was on the verge of castrating him. Who had ordered Mark to bring his . . .fiance to his home. But the answer became quite obvious to Ian in a matter of seconds. There were only two people who had higher importance than Ian himself and knew of the will including both Ian and Amy . . . And one of them was off in god knows where.

He turned to Mark, who had gladly turned away with his back to him, whistling like Homer Simpson when he was trying to act "innocent." Amy snorted at Mark's whistling in the background once Ian's attention had switched from her.

"Mark." Ian growled.

"Yes, your highness?" Mark answered back, sweetly, making Ian feel near nauseous. And annoyed. Oh oh, very annoyed indeed . . .

"Stop mocking me and answer this: Why has my father requested to meet with Amy Cahill and I?" His tone was demanding and menacing, and promised unpleasantness with cold fury. Mark barely wavered under Ian's penetrating stink eye. Years of experience with Ian had taught Mark quite a few things. Black mail and information to name a few . . . . Ah, the advantages of being a Lucian. Sweet.

"Well, I would like to meet the lady that roped my son into wedding," the smooth charismatic voice said, their voice echoing through the drawing room. "And got away with it."

Gods, you could hear the smirk in the man's voice.

Amy came to a conclusion, thereupon.

Kabra genes suck.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !


	6. Cyanide and Nicknames

Right, I hope you guys are prepared for the following chapter where Amy creates a master plan to destroy the evil betrothal she doesn't spend the rest of her days with the "snobby jerk face". . . MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I've made this chapter (or at least tried) longer than usual! Can't you feel the awesome evilness just _oozing _out of these words that I am typing? No? Yes? There's no right answer with me . . . ANYWAYS!

My last warning.

DO NOT WATCH THE DEATH NOTE LIVE ACTION MOVIES. YOU'LL BE THOROUGHLY DISAPPOINTED AND BE LACKING 4 HOURS OF YOUR LIFESPAN.

. . . Continue:

THE CHAPTER BEFORE!

"Mark." Ian growled.

"Yes, your highness?" Mark answered back, sweetly, making Ian feel near nauseous. And annoyed. Oh oh, very annoyed indeed . . .

"Stop mocking me and answer this: Why has my father requested to meet with Amy Cahill and I?" His tone was demanding and menacing, and promised unpleasantness with cold fury. Mark barely wavered under Ian's penetrating stink eye. Years of experience with Ian had taught Mark quite a few things. Black mail and information to name a few . . . . Ah, the advantages of being a Lucian. Sweet.

"Well, I would like to meet the lady that roped my son into wedding," the smooth charismatic voice said, their voice echoing through the drawing room. "And got away with it."

Gods, you could hear the smirk in the man's voice.

Amy came to a conclusion, thereupon.

Kabra genes suck.

CHAPTER 6!

"Now, Amy, would you like some sugar with that?"

Amy held her tea cup out nervously as Vikram Kabra added more sugar into her Earl Grey. Terrified. That's how she felt. She knew the power the man before her had; the ruthlessness, the charisma and the knowledge. He was a born leader. Or dictator. And he was handling her food. And expecting her to drink it. Right in front of him. Like she said, terrified.

She and Dan had taken serious Madrigal training after Fiske had sort of taken guardianship over them. And that meant knowing their enemies. What they liked to eat, how dangerous they were, their ranking within their own branch, right even down to their medical history. They just _might _have a serious allergy to peanuts and it could help the hunt.

Vikram Kabra had had a thin file. There was just _that _less information on him, and most of them were assumptions, leads, not much definite crimes. Kabras cleaned up _that _good. And Amy was facing one of the most dangerous men on Earth unarmed. She had walked into his territory, while he smirked all the while. She was walking into the unknown with nothing to go on. Again, terrifying.

She could see where her future homicidal husband got his looks. From head to toe, they were nearly a carbon copy, except Vikram was older and had an air of . . . darkness around him. That beneath all the layers of facades and masks and intricately placed webs, therein lay a cruel, cynical man. She shuddered internally.

She lowered her cup down to her lap and her throat constricted. The meeting Vikram Kabra had created was, luckily for her (Ha!, no.), around tea time. So there they were. Amy Cahill against the Cobra-blooded species: Vikram Kabra, Ian Kabra and his cousin, Mark Andretti. She had been hoping Mark's last name resembled an animal. It would give her and Dan something to laugh about.

Dan. If she ever did get out of this manor or whatever, she'd get him best ninja costume. Ever. And, if she could get out of The Cobras' clutches for a moment more, hatch a plan to get out of the betrothal. The contract had practically no loopholes, but she would find a way. She and Dan always did.

"Lost in your thoughts?"

Amy's muses were gone as she processed Vikram Kabra's question. "No, Mr. Kabra. I am just curious as to why you haven't killed me yet."

Stunned silence met her words.

"Good to know we have dropped the formalities, but Ms. Cahill, let's not get onto a topic so . . . messy. I just wanted to meet you. I am giving my only son away. The least we could do is meet . . . Don't you agree?" His voice had a lilting accent and was smooth and oozing in charisma. She already got enough crap from Isabel. To think he would try and use it on her . . .

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kabra, but everything you've told me so far seems to come from your colon." Amy said quietly.

Vikram merely raised an eyebrow, surprised, his teacup mid air before he resumed and took a sip.

"What is it that you truly want to discuss?" Amy asked quickly. _Congrats, Amy. You might be the first person to insult Vikram Kabra to his face. Smoooth. He'll have no problem killing you _now_._

" has explained everything in the utmost detail about the betrothal to Ian and yourself?"

"No, he hasn't." She answered quickly. He was a lawyer. An executioner. And remembering Mr. McIntyre, they only tell you what benefits them and their cause. Parkinson was keeping something back. He had to. Or, he was a really lousy privileged executioner. Yup, that made sense.

Vikram raised an eyebrow yet again, and Amy began to wonder if he had an eyebrow raising disorder or something. Her old grade eight teacher, Ms. Manson, had raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes all the time whenever a student came up with a stupid excuse for not doing their homework. She ended up looking like Spock a bit more, every day . . . She didn't dare mention that. But, now to her surprise, he said, "Smart. I feel well assured that you can keep my son in line."

Amy openly gaped at him now, completely forgetting that her tea might be poisoned. Ian, too was astonished. She could hear him sputtering "Excuse me, father, but WHAT!" in the background, along with Mark's incessant snickering. Amy finally managed to close her mouth, and form a proper sentence. "You forced my parents through what I can imagine hell when I was only a month old, _**just**_ to make me babysit your son! Are kidding me! Do you actually think I'll believe that? You're just doing this so that **Cobra **over here can get a better chance of stealing clues that my brother and I found!" Amy was fuming now, her hair inflamed again and her eyes narrowed, as sharp as a knife.

Vikram Kabra merely waved his hand nonchalantly. "Ms. Cahill, you may seem against this engagement at first, but I think you'll like it in the end. I mean, you already have a nickname for Ian, don't you? . . . Cobra," Vikram said slowly, as if tasting the nickname. Amy could be heard growling menacingly. "Not original, but it is very appropriate. Cobras are the King of the Snake family, and you will, in a few months, be marrying the successor of the most powerful branch, the Lucians." Vikram's eyes flicked between Ian and Amy. "Don't worry, Ms. Cahill. This will turn out nicely in both of your favours. I do recall Isabel telling me of Ian's little crush on you when you two first started hunting. You will be much more compliant." Vikram took a sip from his tea and smiled half-heartedly.

"Father! I did no-" Ian cried, but was cut off.

"Oh please, Ian. It was all over Natalie's diary in that invisible ink she likes. And remember," Vikram's mirth evident in his eyes, "you still do." Ian, still outraged, looked horrified while Vikram just smiled, as if amused by everything. He probably was.

"So, do remember Ms. Cahill. No matter what, you will be in front of that altar on your wedding day, saying 'I do' to my son." Vikram said, as he and Amy both stood up.

"We'll see about that, Mr. Kabra." Amy promised.

Vikram merely smirked.

**!L LAWLIET IS IN MY DREAMS! He hehe . . . that's my PAGE BREAK!**

Amy stormed into the Madrigal base, through all the security, and straight to Nellie's room. She was soaking and all the rain still hadn't cooled her rekindled anger towards the Kabras. The hallways were quite empty, seeing as it was night, around eleven, and no one wanted to miss the sparring tournament the following morning. Except Nellie. She was such a night owl nowadays; she could work well on even 4 hours of sleep. Quoting Dan, "like a ninja." Either she was cooking, listening on her iPod or watching a movie . . .

But as she approached Nellie's room and opened the door, she was hit with the sound of Nellie's roaring laughter, interrupted by Nellie's own giggles breaking through. Amy opened the door more and peeked in. Nellie was on her bed; curled up with a big bowl of caramel popcorn and a bowl of French vanilla ice cream. Caramel popcorn littered the ground around her bed, and said ice cream (which was o' so delicious looking) was on the danger of nearly falling over, all due to Nellie's laughter.

Nellie was watching a movie, that much Amy could see, but she didn't recognize the actors on screen. She doubted she would have, anyway. Amy barely watched TV now, other than with Dan. And that was only the Simpsons. The Clue Hunt had consumed much of their time. They learned new languages, new styles of fighting, and anything else that would help them find more clues. But with the betrothal . . . What would Amy do? She couldn't stop hunting, it was the only thing that she knew what to do. But she couldn't have the daddy's boy looking over her shoulder and reporting every clue she would find to his branch.

It all spelt disaster.

"Nellie, I need to talk to you." Amy said firmly, determined to discuss the betrothal. If she wanted to get rid of a guy, Nellie would know just how.

"Kiddo, just come over here," Nellie said, distracted as she stared transfixed by what was going on in the movie, patting the place beside her.

"Er . . . Alright." Amy said as she took her shoes off and climbed onto the bed, careful to avoid the caramelized popcorn. She sat beside Nellie, took the remote, and paused the movie.

"Hey!" Nellie cried. "I was watching that! What was that for? It was just getting good . . ." And Nellie pouted, as if that would work.

"Nellie, this is very important. I don't now how to say this without freaking you or Dan out-"

"You're not dating Kurt, are you? 'Cause that nub didn't last a second sparring against Dan, and Dan's younger than him! You need a dude that can kick ass, Amy." Nellie said seriously. "Not someone who likes to sing to the angels and thinks chocolate croissants taste bad. WHO can even THINK that chocolate croissants taste bad . . ."Nellie shook her head, as if she was ashamed of even thinking or talking about such bad things.

Amy widened her eyes, and thought back to the kiss she and Kurt had shared on the airplane. But Amy never _had _really thought about dating him. The kiss, now that she looked back onto it, was okay. She didn't feel warm, and there wasn't any sparks. It was just okay. And even her brush of the lips with Ian in South Korea had been better . . .

"No! Nellie, this . . uhh . . . okay. Here it is: I'm betrothed to Ian Kabra." Amy sputtered.

Nellie didn't move, her face blank and impassive for a few seconds before she burst into fits of laughter. Amy wanted to bang herself on the head. Or preferably, Nellie's. Nellie thought that she was pulling her leg. Joking. But it was far from the truth. And as Nellie noticed Amy's serious, sad face, she realized "You're telling the truth? But . . ." Nellie said, confused. Nellie shook her head, "How'd it happen, kiddo?"

And Amy told her everything. From the point that Richard Parkinson contacted her to her tea party with the Cobras. She watched as Nellie's face morphed into one of curiousity, annoyance, and anger. It was quite a mix, but Nellie pulled it off.

"What do you want me to do? Punch them so hard they forget about the betrothal? Feed them an amnesic mixture in their caviar and foie gras while I'm dressed as Chef Boyardee, what? 'Cause I can do all that happily with some Green Day playing in the background!" Nellie said, enthusiastically.

"Though appreciated, Nellie, none of those. I need you to help me get rid of Ian. Make him hate me so much that he never wants to see again. Make it that even his father is convinced that getting us betrothed was a bad idea."

"But kiddo, what about the betrothal contract? You can't do much unless you can get it annulled."

"I know. According to the contract, the parents/guardians of the betrothed have to be unanimous in their decision that the betrothed will not do the wedding. Vikram said that no matter what, I will be at the altar with Ian, and according to our sources, Isabel is in some jungle searching for a clue. I need to really screw Ian up and be the worst future daughter-in-law ever." Amy ranted, breathing heavily.

Nellie let out a low whistle. Nellie scratched her head, deep in thought. Amy's face was somber as she looked at Nellie, hoping she would come up with _anything_. Then, suddenly, Nellie's face lit up.

"Goddamnit, why didn't I think of this before? Amy, the movie I'm watching! _**How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days!**_"

Amy's smile was as big as the size of Texas.

**-L IS AWESOME! - PAGE BREAK - L IS AWESOME!-**

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